Imitation
by skipmcgee
Summary: What is it, exactly, that makes someone irreplacable?


**Title**: Imitation

**Author**: Skt23

**Genre**: Harry/Ron, angst

**Rating**: R for language, implications

**Summary**: What is it, exactly, that makes the person you love irreplaceable?

**Warnings**: Language, Mature themes

**Word Count:** 1970

**A/N**: This little s.o.b. popped up from another song (I have a very musical muse), and what an angsty, melancholy little piece it is. I do like the theme behind it though, and trying to figure out how to explain Ron's feelings and actions. So enjoy, no beta, and really let me have it in regards to characterization, because I'd like to know whether or not the idea I'm putting forth is convincing.

Oh, and the lyrics are at the bottom, if you're interested in what inspired this little piece (and where the title came from).

At first Ron thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him. An over-stressed, over-worked brain, he reasoned. After all, Ron knew there were many things he didn't understand, but one thing he did know was Harry.

So when Harry came home unusually late, without a good excuse, he let it slip by.

The next time it happened he had already forgotten about the first time. He worked long hours and was tired. Harry was an almost obsessive workaholic, explaining himself away by saying that Quidditch wasn't really _work_ . The fact that he spent almost all day, every day on the field not withstanding. Ron let him, said nothing, because he knew Harry needed something in the world to stay the same. Flying always felt the same, the Snitch in your hand always fluttered the same way. The world was a different place, with the absence of the most evil wizard of all time, and Harry was holding on to what he could.

It had changed them all, 2 and a half years of guerilla warfare against sociopaths who had not problems with destroying the lives of innocents in the most degrading, disturbing ways imaginable. Ron knew that even before Ginny was taken for 3 weeks, even before she had come back damn near catatonic and even now would be in the care of their parents for the rest of their lives. He just hadn't realized how profound the change would be.

The third time it happened Ron waited up, and when no real explanation was forthcoming, they had a terrific row. It lasted 4 days before they succumbed to the lure of make-up sex, but Ron realized as he lay awake with Harry asleep on his shoulder, that he had never really gotten an answer.

It was after that night that Ron began to notice a change in Harry. It wasn't something he felt he could have verbalized, or even pinpoint, but he could tell that something was different. Harry began spending more time practicing than Ron thought was humanly possible. Or at least, that's where he said he was. But Ron never wanted to check, never wanted to have his fears confirmed. It was an answer to a question he wasn't prepared to ask.

It began to dominate everything he did, every conversation they had, and every night they spent together. When Harry came home late, Ron grew increasing irate about where he'd been, but when he came home early, Ron wondered what he was making up for. It was insane and irrational, but Ron couldn't seem to stop the niggling thoughts in the back of his head. And it didn't help that Harry seemed to be oblivious to the reasons behind Ron's ever-shorter temper. Even their nights together began to feel bittersweet, a pain he couldn't help poking at to see if it still hurt.

It was probably the silences that clued other people in. For the span of their friendship they had never been at a loss for words with each other. For good or bad, there had never been a time when they couldn't find anything to say. They'd ignored each other, sure, for months they'd not said a single word to one another, but this was different. An almost uncomfortable edge to the silences, as though they weren't quite sure what to say. Or at least, that's what it felt like to Ron. Like Harry was slowly morphing into someone he didn't really know.

The entire apartment felt primed for an argument, and although Ron had never been one to back down from a confrontation, this one was fight he wasn't sure he wanted to have. It was one thing to fight with someone who you knew loved you, because in the end they wanted things to work out just as much as you did.

Ron wasn't sure where Harry stood on that topic some days. Most days now, really.

The twins had asked Ron once, and so had his father, but Ron had shrugged them off and blamed both of their schedules, not wanting to voice his fears. They had all bought it, or were just wise enough not to push him. Hermoine, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

She had questioned Ron earlier and more often than everyone else, and refused to buy his explanations. When he snapped at her she snapped back, until the day she really let him have it.

"Damn it Ron, no wonder Harry doesn't talk to you anymore, if this is all he hears!" And she had stormed out, Ron yelling things after her in anger he wouldn't remember when he had calmed down.

He did think about what she had said though, and ran through the various ways in which he could bring it up without having to actually ask the question. It took him a while, as subtle conversational manipulation had never really been his forte. It turned out he didn't even have a chance to use it. Harry had picked up on his preoccupation and made some comment, something along the lines of his being pissy when Harry was "preoccupied" and Ron had snapped.

When they were teenagers, it was easy to argue, and even easier to make up. They managed to spend three months angry and 5 minutes reconciling and things were back to normal. Back to the way they were supposed to be. Now it seemed like they couldn't get back to that place, to the point where things were 'normal'. 3 months of silence is easy when you're not sleeping with that person. It's not as easy when you have over a decade of feelings, and years of a relationship that has permeated every aspect of daily life.

Harry had yelled, and Ron had yelled back, until he was sure the neighbors heard, but he didn't care. Built up tensions and irritations exploded in a fury of angry words, until it culminated in Ron yelling in frustration.

"God damn it Harry, it's like you're not even the same person - like you're a complete fucking stranger". Harry's eyes had gone diamond hard.

"Only because you changed first Ron. I tried to keep up with you, but fuck it, I can't anymore"

"I changed? I'm not the one fucking someone else!" Harry's entire countenance coiled up and Ron flinched, both from the fact that Harry looked like he was going to pound him, and the sudden energy in the room. Harry spoke through a jaw clenched so tight Ron knew it had to hurt.

"For the last time, _I AM NOT CHEATING ON YOU_. Do you think that I would be here if I didn't want to be with you? Fuck, Ron, if I wanted to be with someone else, _I'd be with someone else_. Stop being so fucking _paranoid_". Ron's reply held a note of pain and hurt that surprised even him.

"So where do you go at night? And don't tell me it's Quidditch practice, because I'm not a bloody idiot" Harry sighed, as though in defeat.

"That first time? I was out looking for you" Ron cocked his head in total confusion.

"Me? I was home" Harry shook his head.

"Not at first. I came home from practice and you were gone, so I went out looking for you. When I couldn't find you I came home and you were already back, but I didn't tell you because I felt stupid running around town for no reason." Ron blinked in surprise, although it wasn't so much for the explanation as for the lack of reassurance he felt. Years ago, it would have been enough. Now, he wasn't so sure.

"And the time after that? And after that? How many times can you lose me, especially with this hair?" Ron said sarcastically, a finger pointed at his head. This time though, Harry didn't respond with anger, but a deep sadness that made something inside Ron twist in fear.

"I think I'm losing you now." And Harry looked away, turned back and stared at him, eyes unfathomable. Ron just felt defensive.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means-"Harry took a deep breath, tried to reign in his anger.

"-It means that you're the one who's changing Ron. And I'm not enough." Ron turned away, saying over his shoulder "You're wrong, Harry. _I'm_ not enough for _you_". He apparated away, realizing only later that Harry had answered the question he'd been afraid to ask.

It wasn't Harry who had changed, it was him.

But despite the fact that he was no longer the Ron he once was, and Harry wasn't the person he fell in love with, he went back. Couldn't be Harry-and-Ron without the Ron, after all. And whoever he was these days, that person was still in love with Harry Potter, savior to the wizarding world.

Things got a little better after that, in some ways. But mostly things stayed the same. Ron knew they would stay together though, come what may. Maybe they'd spend the next 5 or 10 years together, or maybe even longer. Maybe they'd spend the rest of their lives looking behind while going forward. Because no matter what they did, it never compared to that time when they were young boys in love, when nothing else mattered. When there was no death and battle scars, save the one on Harry's forehead. Now there were jobs and bills and the memories of all they'd lost.

Neither one was the same after the war.

Stranger in My House by Tamia

_I don't understand  
You look just like the man  
In the picture by our bed  
The suspense is pounding and clouding up my head  
I'm checkin' your clothes  
And you wear the same size shoe  
You sleep in his spot  
And you're driving his car  
But I don't know just who you are  
_

_-Chorus-  
There's a stranger in my house  
It took a while to figure out  
There's no way you could be who you say you are  
You gotta be someone else  
'Cuz he wouldn't touch me like that  
And he wouldn't treat me like you do  
He would adore me, he wouldn't ignore me  
So I'm convinced there's a stranger in my house  
  
I'm not sure who you are  
Don't see your shadow around when you walk Ain't leavin' no kisses  
Goodbye with no words  
If these walls could talk  
They would have nothing to tell  
  
So what could it be?  
Is there someone imitating me?  
Could she be taking my place?  
Look me in the face  
And tell me that I'm wrong  
When I say...  
  
-Chorus-  
  
Pop quiz  
Tell me where we first kissed  
Tell me where my spot is  
Tell me if I liked it, loved it  
Or could it be  
That the stranger is me  
Have I changed so drastically?  
Is it I want more for me?  
And you remain the same _

_-Chorus-_


End file.
